The Thick Of It 31.

Winter.

As Dorc da Orc smashes his warhammer into the head of a rebel soldier, shattering apart the man's head into a bloody pulp.
And sir Percavelle Lé Dic stabs his sword of knockdown into the side of an enemy soldier.
Sending the man cartwheeling across the snow covered ground a good thirty feet, before coming to a stop with shattered ribs, and a broken back.
Lord Farque picks up a dead enemy soldiers on the ground by the leg.
And throws the rebel trooper at those retreating from this position they've fallen back to.
The body goes flying nearly fifty feet just a few feet off the ground, before it slams into a group of fleeing soldiers in the army of the rebel councilman, Hirrye.
As those not knocked out or killed, scramble to get to their feet. They're shot down by loyalist archers.
As well as Dalinvardèl Tanith the elven spy, and Lisell Maera the scout.
Looking around, lord Farque quickly assess the situation, and calls over a runner who has been following them.
And says to the young soldier in the loyalist army "Have commander Tracklen order our forces north".
The undead warlord continues with "We've got them on the run at this end of the lines".
"Yes my lord" says the young loyalist soldier, who hurries away to the right. Where commander Tracklen and others are about a hundred yards away.
The large, heavily armoured deathlord looks at the group, and the soldiers in the army loyal to the ruling council of the city-state of Kuradum who are with them.
And says to them all "We're heading that way". As he points away to the northeast.
When previously this morning, they've been pushing the enemy back to the east.
As they're now well over a mile and a quarter to the east of the abandoned village, where the battle began first thing this morning.
Here along the frontlines of the war, in the east of the city-state of Kuradum.
"Why that way?" asks Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit who is breathing heavily as he's had to keep up with those who have longer limbs than he does.
"Because that thieving bastard of an elven prince is that way, that's why" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
Helbe the elven thief watches more of the enemy forces retreating back to this position.
As the attack by the loyalist forces against the rebel army, here at the southern end of the frontlines in the east of the city-state continue.
The blurred and shielded elven magic user pulls his right spike puncher out of the back of the head of the enemy officer he's just killed.
Then he lowers the dead body down, next to the three others he's killed up here in this observation tower.
The wooden tower, which is basically just a siege tower without it's cladding.
Is situated on a farm, not far from the farmhouse, and up a hill from a couple of barns.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, glances down at a pair of message riders, who are standing next to their mounts.
Oblivious to the fact the four up in the observation tower are dead.
The highly talented elven magic user casts a spell upon them both. Then he grins as they ride off to deliver false orders to a couple of nearby companies in the rebel army.
Then as more of the enemy from the south and west retreat across the paddocks and fields of the farm.
The elven master assassin tries to locate the rest of the group who are heading this way.
On his right shoulder, Narladene the ground pixie locates them first, and she points and says "There they are".
With his naturally enhanced eyesight, the elven masterthief who is a member of the royal family that rules the island principality of Laerel.
Quickly spots the rest of the group, who are with the advancing loyalist army.
Mira there's a farmhouse the enemy are using as a command position, and a rendezvous point for those who are retreating, you'll be able to see it once you top that rise you lot are on, says Helbe the elven thief by way of a mindspeech spell he casts to Mira Reinholt the mage.
Blow it up, adds the highly talented elven magic user by way of the spell he's cast to his fellow practitioner of magic.
"Was that to Mira?" asks Narladene the ground pixie from her position on the elven master archer's right shoulder.
"It was" replies the grandson of the ruling prince of the nation of Laerel, who gestures at the nearby farmhouse, then adds "I told him to destroy it".
The naturally magical creature from the Sunreach Mountains murmurs "Hmmmm" followed by "Are we far enough away from it?" she then adds "After all this is Mira we're talking about".
"Good point" dryly says the elven princeling who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque.
Who then shifts away from the top of the observation tower he's been watching the battle from.
"What did he want?" asks lord Farque as he looks back at the mage Reinholt, who he sensed was engaged in a mindspeech spell with Helbe the elven thief.
"There's a farmhouse up ahead somewhere" replies Mira Reinholt the mage, who continues with "They're using it as command site, and a rendezvous point for this lot retreating".
The once powerful mage who is from the city-state of Vexil, a nation he's in exile from, then adds "We should be able to see it from up there" followed by "He wants me to destroy it".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head as they walk quickly up a rise.
As they and the loyalist army pursue the retreating rebel army to the north and east.
Though a few of the fleeing enemy are shot, most of those who are killed or wounded before they can get to safety over the rise up ahead.
Fall to the spells of the practitioners of magic in the group.
After Saanea the witch hits a group of the enemy with a blast spell. And three more fall to a lightning bolt shot from the right gloved hand of the mage Reinholt.
And two others drop dead from a piercing white light that appears out of nowhere.
Cast by Beldane the cleric who is following the others at a distance, as he's been told to by lord Farque.
The last of the fleeing enemy at this end of the battle, get over the rise and make their way down the otherside. To what they assume is safety.
They're in for a bit of a surprise as the group along with the loyalist soldiers with them this morning.
Here on what's a cold and clear winter's day in this part of eastern Kuradum.
Come to a stop at the top of the rise and look to the north. Where a farmhouse at the end of some fields can be seen a few hundred yards away.
Running towards it are the retreating enemy. Heading to where a fair few of their fellow rebels are waiting.
As from up here on the rise, they can see at least a couple hundred, maybe more. Are behind the farmhouse, with a smaller number in and around the nearby barns.
Where up from a hill next to them, sits an observation tower that appears to have no one up it at the moment.
Looking down to the right, to where commander Tracklen is leading the others around the rise on the road down there. It's more of a wagon track than an actual road.
Lord Farque says to Tamric Drubine the field commander "Get that Tracklen to halt for a moment".
"Yes my lord" says Tamric Drubine the field commander who hurries away for a moment.
Then Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit says "Doesn't look like anyone's up that tower over there".
"There is" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then dryly adds "They're dead".
The lord of the death realm continues with "Four of them, officers most likely" he follows that with "His royal thiefness has dealt to them".
Then because he's impatient, even though he dislikes magic, Dorc da Orc says to the mage Reinholt "What ya fucken waiting for Killer" followed by "Fucken blow 'em up".
After rolling his eyes, the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster says "I'm waiting for that lot falling back to join the rest of them next to that farmhouse".
Before the large ork can ask him why the fuck for? The I've once powerful mage says to him "So i can get as many of them as possible".
The ork warleader who is a general in the armies of Farque thinks about it for a moment, then he grunts in understanding, and he says "Good idea".
The spellcaster who was once more powerful than any other mage of his generation, to be found anywhere in the Southlands.
Until he lost most of his powers when he went offworld through a rift/void spell he accidentally cast.
As he waits, puts a gloved hand into an inner pocket of his black cloak. He clasps one of his gems, and drains the power out of it.
He's already gone through a few this morning during the battle. And by the end of the day, he'll need one of the other spellcasters in the group.
Either Helbe the elven thief, or Beldane the cleric, or Saanea the witch. To refill the used gems with power.
Looking around in the distance to see how things are faring elsewhere along the battlelines.
Lord Farque quietly says "Not pushing them back as far or as quickly that way".
Tamric Drubine, Mira Reinholt and Jarjin Littlefoot all nod in agreement as they look to where the large, heavily armoured deathlord has just pointed.
"After we clear this lot away" says the undead warlord, who to the people of his lands, is also known by the name of Draugadrottin.
"We'll circle around and hit that lot along their southern flank" adds the undead being who has the elven name of Des'tier. Which means, The Destroyer.
The deathlord of Farque then looks again at the retreating enemy, most of whom have crossed the snow covered fields and reached the area around the farmhouse.
The lord of the death realm then glances down at the Vexilian mage in exile and nods his full helmed head.
Mira Reinholt creates a mageglobe in his gloved right hand. It takes a little longer than normal to create.
As it's slightly larger than normal. This one isn't the size of an apple, it's the size of an orange.
The living piece of magic, bright red in colour, waits a moment in the gloved palm of it's creator.
Then it shots off, heading north away from the rise, across the fields towards the farmhouse a few hundred yards away.
"Er how big is that going to be?" asks Saanea the witch who has a feeling at what's about to happen.
"Ah fairly big" is the reply of Mira Reinholt the mage, who briefly pauses before adding "Much bigger than anything I've done lately".
Then as Jarjin Littlefoot the hobbit mutters "Oh hell". And both Saanea the witch and field commander Drubine cover their ears.
As does Tovis the war engineer, who says to Zam the ex mercenary "You might want to cover your ears".
Which Lisell Maera the scout has already done, when she saw the size of the mageglobe streaking across the fields towards the farmhouse in the distance.
The living piece of magic passes over the last of the stragglers approaching the farmhouse.
The fairly large mageglobe, which has a mind of it's own as it undertakes what it's creator made it to do.
Doesn't muck around, and flies straight through an open window on the ground floor of the large, two storey farmhouse.
There's a momentary pause, then there's an explosion. A very loud and a very large explosion.
The entire farmhouse goes up in the fiery explosion. Sending debris flying in all directions.
Chunks of burning wood, and stone smash into the nearby barns. Totally ripping the entire front off one.
And peppering the second barn. So that there's large holes all the way through it.
Bits of debris even slam up along the nearby hill, smashing into the observation tower up there.
Hitting the struts and open framework so often, that it slowly topples over from about halfway up.
As for the enemy rebels. Those who were already in and around the farmhouse.
As well as those who had retreated from the nearby frontlines of the battle between the loyalist and rebel forces. Fighting over who should rule the city-state of Kuradum.
Most of them are either killed or badly wounded from the large explosion.
While nearly all the others are knocked off their feet. And are dazed on the ground as a large cloud of dirt, snow and burning debris as well as body parts mushrooms up into the clear, blue winter's sky of the morning.
"Damn, Killer" says Dorc da Orc with a shake of his head and chortle.
While his bitter rival, sir Percavelle Lé Dic "That was excessive, wot".
"Effective though" says Mira Reinholt the mage as they watch the debris cloud mushroom up hundreds and hundreds of yards into the morning sky.
Lord Farque nods in agreement with the once powerful mage, then the undead warlord shouts "Charge!" followed by "Attack!".
The loyalist soldiers who are slightly mesmerized by what they're seeing infront of them.
Take a couple of moments to realise that an order has just been given. Then those up on the rise, and those down on the wagon track with commander Tracklen.
Start heading off, running across the snow covered fields towards where the farmhouse once stood.
"Let's go" says lord Farque to the group as he gestures to follow the loyalist soldiers hurrying down the rise.
While away to one side of the hill, that had the observation tower up on the top of it.
The blurred and shielded Helbe the elven thief as he looks over to the hill, and what remains of the tower there, dryly says "Good thing we got out of there".
On his right shoulder, Narladene the ground pixie nods her head in agreement with the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel.
Then the highly talented elven magic user, who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, shifts away.
As the battle along the southern end of the frontlines here in the east of the city-state.
Continues on this cold, but clear winter's day in this part of Kuradum . . . . . .